The Turning Point
by Adam Troy
Summary: Gogo Yubari's reckless behavior brings her to a critical crossroads.


Gogo Yubari awoke to throbbing pain in her head. Cursing softly, she pushed herself upright and sat quietly on the edge of her bed for several minutes, letting the familiarity of her bedroom pull her senses farther out of the grogginess of sleep and into wakeful reality. She could tell from the angle of the sunlight streaming through her windows that it was late, nearing noon. She cursed again.

Reaching up to rub the back of her stiff neck, she was surprised to feel a woolen collar there. Looking down at herself, she realized she was still fully dressed – cotton blouse, red silk tie, woolen skirt and blazer, and all the socks, shoes and underwear that went with them. She had apparently fallen into bed the night before without pausing to undress.

Her mouth tasted stale, as though she had been smoking, although she was fairly certain she had not been, at least not last night. Smoking was a recently acquired vice, one that she engaged in only rarely – as drinking had been in the beginning. Unlike alcohol, cigarettes did not provide a pleasant numbing effect and it was only when she was feeling particularly angry at herself for one reason or another that she felt the urge to light up. At such times, the sheer unhealthiness of the habit appealed to her.

In addition to the foul taste in her mouth, her feet hurt from sleeping in her shoes, her head hurt from too much sake, and she felt sticky with sweat from sleeping in her heavy blazer all night. In short, she was a mess. Thank God O-Ren had nothing planned for today that required her services until later that evening!

Gogo struggled out of her clothes, leaving them on the floor where they fell, and stumbled toward her bathroom, hoping a very hot shower might ease some of the aches in her body and bestow a bit more alertness to her bleary brain. As she was about to step into her shower stall, she noticed a smear of dried blood on her right knee and thigh. Ah, yes, she remembered, the lusty jerk with the roaming hands! What a sleazebag he had been! Gogo wondered with disgust just how many STDs she might have exposed herself to just by leaving his blood on her skin for so long.

She stayed in the shower a long time, allowing the stinging, hot spray to loosen the kinks in her muscles and the billowing steam to help clear her head. As she began to recall more details of the previous evening, she cursed herself again, realizing she had, once again, allowed a quick stop at a club for a couple of cups of sake to turn into a late night drinking binge. And she had also, once again, roughed up a civilian. Not that he hadn't been asking for it, the jerk!

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her damp hair plastered to her forehead and shoulders, the red light on her telephone was flashing, indicating a waiting voice message. Gogo quickly dialed into her mailbox. The message was from O-Ren, wanting to see her in her residence ASAP.

Gogo hurriedly dressed in a fresh school uniform and dashed out her door and down the hallway to the elevators. She slipped into an empty elevator car and pressed the buzzer marked "Penthouse." Almost immediately, she heard the answering buzz from upstairs and the car, with a slight lurch, started upward.

Gogo's home was a roomy and well-appointed apartment in O-Ren's headquarters building in downtown Tokyo, just one flight down from O-Ren's own penthouse suite, so it took only moments for her to reach O-Ren's floor. The doors slid open and she stepped off the elevator, expecting to see O-Ren's personal assistant, Akemi, and was mildly surprised to find that it was O-Ren herself who had buzzed the car up and was standing in the foyer waiting for her.

When O-Ren saw Gogo, a look of concern came over her. "Are you alright, Gogo? You look tired." She reached up to brush her thumb gently under the girl's left eye. "And you're getting circles under your eyes."

"I stayed out later than I intended last night," Gogo answered.

"Hmm…," O-Ren responded neutrally.

O-Ren led Gogo to her study and motioned for her to sit in one of the large, overstuffed armchairs arranged in front of her massive, ornately-carved desk. As she sat, Gogo took the opportunity to admire the sight of the Tokyo skyline through the large floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one entire wall of the room. Gogo actually had the very same view from her own apartment, but her smaller and less numerous windows provided a vista that, frankly, paled in comparison.

"I had a very interesting meeting this morning," O-Ren said, taking her seat in the sumptuous leather chair behind her desk. "With Hiro Takahashi. Do you know who Hiro Takahashi is?"

"I think so," Gogo replied. "He's some industrial bigwig, isn't he?"

"Yes, that's right. He's the head of Takahashi Industries. His family is one of the wealthiest and most powerful in Japan. He came by to see me this morning…early."

Gogo wasn't sure where this was leading, but then her conversations with O-Ren often started out this way. She was confident O-Ren would make all clear in time.

"Mr. Takahashi was very upset when he arrived," O-Ren continued. "It seems his son, Shigeo, was injured last night." She leveled her gaze at Gogo. "And it seems you were the one who injured him."

Gogo felt her stomach tighten. Takahashi? Shigeo Takahashi? Yes, she remembered, that was the name the jerk from last night had given.

"Were you at the Empress Club last night, Gogo?" O-Ren asked.

"Yes, Mistress," she replied, adopting a more deferential manner.

"And did you have an altercation with Mr. Takahashi's son?"

"I believe so, Mistress."

O-Ren raised an eyebrow. "You 'believe so'?"

"I believe the person did say his name was Shigeo Takahashi," Gogo quickly clarified. "I did not know he was the son of Mr. Takahashi."

O-Ren leaned back into her chair. "Tell me what happened."

"He was insulting to me, Mistress," Gogo explained. "I was simply minding my own business when he approached me and started making insulting comments. Then he put his hands on me, pawing me like I was some…common street whore! I simply demonstrated to him that it is unacceptable to treat a yakuza warrior in such a manner."

O-Ren considered that for a moment. "That was a very good description, Gogo. But might it also be described this way: You went to a public saloon filled with civilian sheep – wearing one of your shortest little plaid skirts, no doubt – and got yourself half-drunk on sake? And then, when some weak, pathetic sheep of a man couldn't resist your charms, you put him in the hospital? Does that sound about right?"

Gogo was horrified by O-Ren's accusatory tone. "No, Mistress! It was not like that at all!"

"Gogo, it hasn't escaped my attention that you've been spending an awful lot of your off-duty time in public bars, drinking alcohol to an extent unbefitting a disciplined warrior. And Mr. Takahashi's son wasn't the first such 'altercation,' was he." It was more a statement than a question.

Gogo lowered her eyes. "No, Mistress."

"How many others?"

"I'm not sure, Mistress," she answered truthfully.

"More than five?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"More than ten?"

"I…I'm not sure, Mistress."

O-Ren stood and walked to the windows behind her desk, her back to Gogo, looking out at the skyline. "There have been fatalities too, have there not?"

Gogo's stomach tightened even more. "Yes, Mistress," she answered softly.

"How many?"

"Three, Mistress."

"Three," O-Ren repeated. She turned and walked slowly back toward her desk. "Three deaths. Not enemy warriors. Not rival assassins threatening your mistress." Her voice became progressively louder and more harsh as she approached Gogo. "Just three civilian sheep whose only transgressions were crossing your path at the wrong moment! Those killings were shameful, Gogo, as was your attack on young Takahashi last night! They were the actions of a petty street thug, not a yakuza warrior!"

The words stung and Gogo felt her anger flare. Her eyes flashed as she shouted back, "A yakuza cannot let an insult go unanswered! You taught me that yourself! Once he had insulted me, what choice did I have?"

O-Ren replied calmly. "Yes, that's right, a yakuza must answer any insult. Once he had insulted you, you had to do something. But a truly skilled warrior would have controlled the situation from the very start and prevented it from ever coming to the point where a pitiful, weak, small man had to be injured."

"But, Mistress," Gogo protested, "the very first words out of his mouth were an insult! How could I have controlled that?"

"You should not have been there for him to insult in the first place!" O-Ren shot back.

"But aren't the yakuza free to go wherever we wish?" Gogo challenged, still angry and defensive. "Is a yakuza warrior supposed to cower away from certain places?"

"A warrior is free to go wherever he _chooses_," O-Ren corrected. "And a _true_ warrior chooses wisely!"

Gogo had no response for that. She understood what O-Ren was trying to tell her, even if the concept might never have occurred to her on her own. She remained silent.

O-Ren paused long enough to retake her seat behind her desk. "Gogo," she then said calmly, "what if you had killed Shigeo Takahashi last night?"

"I don't understand, Mistress—"

"You've killed others in similar circumstances, haven't you? Three others? What if you had killed Hiro Takahashi's son? Do you think he would have been in my office this morning asking me to keep my 'minions,' as he put it, away from his family? Or do you think we might instead be facing a grief-stricken father determined to launch an all-out war of vengeance against us?"

Gogo was confused. "But…surely that old man is no match for us—"

"Of course he's no match for us!" O-Ren snapped impatiently. She took a deep breath to calm herself and continued in a softer tone. "Hiro Takahashi could never hope to win a war against us, but a man of his wealth and power could do tremendous damage to our organization before we managed to strike the final blow. Gogo, it was very reckless of you to expose us to that kind of risk."

O-Ren had spoken softly to lessen the blow, but the realization still hit hard. Gogo's combativeness evaporated and was replaced by embarrassment and shame at how blind she had been to the possible repercussions of her impulsive actions, and she was devastated by the realization that her own selfishness and thoughtlessness could have endangered O-Ren Ishii, whom she revered.

"Forgive me, Mistress," she said, her head bowed. "I have behaved foolishly and dishonorably. I swear it will not happen again."

With that admission, O-Ren had gotten part of what she wanted. Now, she leaned forward and spoke with kindness. "Gogo, why do you go to the bars so often?"

Gogo sighed. "I don't know, Mistress. I…sometimes when it's late at night and I have no duties to perform, I just…I just feel that I cannot bear to be alone."

"And does going to the bars and sitting amidst the sheep ease your loneliness?"

"No, Mistress," Gogo admitted. "It makes it worse."

"Then why do you keep going?"

"I don't know," Gogo replied helplessly.

"Why don't you seek out the company of your fellow warriors here instead – among the Crazy 88s?"

Gogo tensed at the question. "I do not believe they would welcome my company," she answered stiffly.

O-Ren smiled. She thought she knew what Gogo was referring to. "No, I guess I can't argue with that. It's true, you're not very popular with many of the Crazy 88s, I'm afraid. Some of them resent the high position you hold at such a young age. Others are jealous of your skills and abilities. They see you as a competitor within our organization, an obstacle to their own advancement."

"Some of them say I am insane," Gogo said, barely louder than a whisper, almost to herself. "They call me a mad dog – a freak."

O-Ren was shocked by the unmistakable hurt she heard in the young girl's voice, and when she spoke again, she spoke very softly. "Yes, some of them do say that. I'm sorry you heard them say it, Gogo. I know it isn't true."

At that moment, O-Ren was feeling very angry toward the Crazy 88s. Their rumor-mongering was not just hateful and hurtful, it was ignorant as well. While O-Ren could not deny that Gogo harbored deep and serious scars to her psyche, she also knew that the girl was not the mindless, bloodthirsty lunatic many tried to paint her as. Yes, Gogo could be fierce – scarily fierce – but never without reason. It was Gogo's duty to protect the life of O-Ren Ishii, and she performed that duty unflaggingly and with samurai-like zeal, putting every fiber of her being into the task. That wasn't madness; it was dedication! As warriors themselves, the Crazy 88s should know better.

"The only reason they would say such things about you is because they feel threatened by you," O-Ren continued. "But you must remember, Gogo, you can't take any of those rumors to heart. For instance, did you know that some of them say the reason you and Sofie don't get along is because you covet her place in my bed – or vice versa?"

Gogo looked up at O-Ren, her eyes wide.

O-Ren smiled at her. "That particular rumor I file under 'Even in the Crazy 88s, Boys Will Be Boys.'"

Gogo laughed at that, and the mood in the room suddenly seemed a little lighter.

O-Ren considered the situation for a moment and decided it was time for the next step.

"How is your training with the meteor hammer going?" she asked.

Gogo was unfazed by the abrupt change of topic; O-Ren's conversations often took these sudden turns. "It goes well, Mistress." Did that sound boastful? she wondered. "I still have much to learn, of course," she added.

O-Ren was amused by Gogo's awkward attempt at modesty. The meteor hammer was a heavy ball and chain weapon renowned for being hellishly difficult to control. Few people had ever truly mastered it, and then only after years of practice. The weapon Gogo trained with was a modified version of the classic weapon, but it retained all of the difficulties of the original.

"Johnny Mo tells me that you handle the weapon better than anyone he has ever seen," O-Ren said. "That you handle it as though it were a natural extension of your own body."

Gogo was pleased by that more than she wanted to show. "I am honored, Mistress," she said simply.

"How long have you been working with the meteor hammer?" O-Ren asked.

"Four…almost five months now, Mistress."

"Five months," O-Ren mused. "Yet my head general tells me you already handle the weapon better than anyone he's ever seen." O-Ren leaned forward. "The point, Gogo, is that you have a remarkable natural ability with weaponry. Are you not aware of that?"

"I am pleased if that is true," Gogo replied, once again with false modesty. The truth was Gogo believed that, with a weapon in her hand, she could beat anyone anywhere.

"It is true," O-Ren confirmed. "And do you know what I think? I think it's time we started taking better advantage of that ability. And maybe at the same time," she gave Gogo a wry look, "we can even get rid of some of that excess free time you seem to have such trouble spending constructively."

Gogo's cheeks reddened with embarrassment at that as O-Ren continued. "From now on, in addition to your primary duties as my protector, you are also going to become an instructor in weaponry under Johnny Mo's direction."

"I don't understand—"

"You're going to start instructing the Crazy 88s in the art of armed combat."

Gogo visibly blanched. "Mistress, they will never accept me as an instructor!"

O-Ren shrugged. "Some of them won't want to…at first. You're going to have to learn to command their respect. That might not be easy, but if it's any comfort to you, you couldn't have a better teacher in that regard than Johnny Mo."

Gogo shook her head. "I don't know, Mistress. I don't think—"

"Gogo," O-Ren interrupted, "most would consider this a great opportunity. Why do you resist it?"

Gogo hung her head, feeling ashamed of her shabby response to O-Ren's generosity. "I don't know why," she said. "I…I know I'm different from the others. There is something wrong with me." She searched vainly for some kind of explanation. "Maybe…maybe being orphaned so young…"

"Have you forgotten," O-Ren asked, "that I was orphaned very young as well – and in similar manner?"

"_But you were able to avenge your parents' deaths!_" Gogo responded, through gritted teeth and with startling vehemence.

O-Ren caught her breath. This might be the breakthrough moment she had been hoping for.

"And you were not," O-Ren said, seizing the moment and completing what Gogo had left unsaid. "Is that what you're saying, Gogo?"

Gogo Yubari's path to orphanhood had been remarkably and tragically similar to O-Ren's own. Her father, Shoichi Yubari, had been a small-time smuggler and black-marketeer who had run afoul of the local yakuza chieftain, Boss Toshiro. To set an example, Toshiro had ordered that Yubari and his entire family be executed. The assassins sent to do the job murdered Shoichi and his wife, but they took pity on his two young daughters, Kyoko (as she was then known) and Yuki, and allowed them to live.

The government placed the two girls in foster homes. But while Yuki worked hard at adjusting to her new reality, Kyoko was consumed by a single-minded fixation on revenge against the man who had slaughtered her family. She quickly realized that her safe new life under her foster guardians' care would isolate her from the dark underworld where Boss Toshiro dwelled, and so, at her first opportunity, she ran away from her foster home and began running with a local street gang.

The gang started young Kyoko out at the bottom, training her as a petty thief and sending her out to commit relatively menial crimes. They soon began calling her "Little Go-Go," partly for her diminutive size but mostly for her fleetness of foot in evading capture whenever one of her shoplifting or pickpocketing expeditions went awry. The nickname had been intended as nothing more than an amusing taunt, but young Kyoko eagerly adopted her new "gang name" as a symbol of acceptance by her comrades. In time, her fellow gang members would come to use the name with respect rather than ridicule.

It was during her days on the streets, as she steadily graduated to increasingly more serious crimes, that the last innocent vestiges of Kyoko Yubari finally died, leaving only the ruthless and hard Gogo Yubari in her place.

Gogo committed her first homicide, almost by accident, at the age of fourteen. She was goaded into a fight with a girl from a rival gang. As the two untrained fighters brawled clumsily in the street, flailing at each other with whatever they could get their hands on, Gogo had no clue that the final blow she was about to land would prove to be a fatal one.

That fight was an epiphany for Gogo. As she stood in the street afterward, bruised and bloody, she realized she had won only by being slightly less plodding and inept than her opponent, and how little actual fighting skill either of them had possessed. She realized the pathetic skills she could pick up on the streets would never be enough to get her anywhere near Boss Toshiro's throat, and that's when she set her sights on getting into the yakuza itself.

She began searching in earnest for a member of the yakuza who could be her ticket to the opportunities within. Most of them laughed at her overtures. A few of them – repugnant old men with ugly desire in their eyes – offered to help her, but only if she would agree to make her young body available to them for their sick pleasure. The very thought disgusted Gogo, but her need for vengeance against Toshiro was so great, she feared she might ultimately have to take that path.

Fortunately for Gogo, news of a persistent young street urchin who seemed to want very badly to become a yakuza eventually reached the ears of O-Ren Ishii. Curious, O-Ren had the girl picked up off the street and brought to her.

As she told O-Ren her story, Gogo was surprised by the look of deep sadness and pity that came over the female warlord's face as Gogo described the murder of her family at Boss Toshiro's bidding. She did not understand the reason for that sadness until much later, when she learned of O-Ren's own tragic beginnings.

O-Ren took Gogo under her wing, allowing her access to the finest combat instructors her organization had to offer. The girl soon proved to have an almost miraculous aptitude for the intricacies of armed combat, mastering several diverse weapons, many of them in record time.

Gogo felt blessed. She was warm and clean and well-fed for the first time in years. O-Ren seemed almost a goddess to her – powerful, refined, and supremely in control of her own destiny. She was everything Gogo aspired to be, and she treated the young girl with such kindness and respect that Gogo could not help but love her in return.

And most importantly of all, every hour she spent studying under the accomplished warrior/instructors O-Ren made available to her brought her ever closer to her goal of slitting the throat of Boss Toshiro.

And then, disaster struck.

One sunny autumn morning, Toshiro's limousine pulled up in front of his headquarters. The aging yakuza climbed out of the car, took a few steps toward the building, and collapsed onto the pavement, dead from a massive heart attack.

Gogo was devastated by the death, more so than even the man's own family. The central pillar and driving goal of her life was now lost to her forever.

From that day forward, every aspect of Gogo Yubari's life – everything she did or said or thought or experienced – was painted and overshadowed by her shame and despair at having failed to achieve her destiny, and by her hatred of God for His complicity in that failure.

"Is that what you're saying, Gogo?" O-Ren pressed her again. "That God sent Boss Toshiro to hell before you were able to, and you feel betrayed and cheated by that?"

"It was my duty and my right to avenge my family!" Gogo felt tears brimming in her eyes, and cursed herself for the show of weakness.

O-Ren saw the tears and her heart went out to Gogo. And she spoke before thinking. "Gogo, you were so young—"

"_You_ were but eleven when you took revenge on Boss Matsumoto!" Gogo retorted bitterly.

O-Ren mentally kicked herself for the thoughtless blunder. Damn it, this was an important moment; she didn't want to make the girl feel defensive! "Okay, you're right, I'm sorry. But that doesn't change the fact that what's done is done. You can't change what happened, Gogo, and you shouldn't throw away the rest of your life by obsessing over the way things _should_ have been. None of us have the luxury of that kind of control!"

O-Ren could see resistance in Gogo's eyes. She knew the young girl instinctively wanted to reject her words, fearful of giving up the driving hatred that had been her only real sustenance for so long.

O-Ren attempted to reach out to Gogo once more – not as warlord to underling, not even as mentor to protégé, but as a kindred spirit who had shared a terrible tragedy. "Gogo, don't you think I know what it feels like to have your family taken from you in the horrible way yours and mine were? Don't you think I understand the damage those bastards did to both of us?"

O-Ren came around her desk to sit in the chair next to Gogo's and took her hand. "Gogo, I think you've been beating yourself up for a long time now. I think you've spent almost your entire life just reacting to whatever pain was hurting you the most at any given moment. It's time for you to open your mind to something larger than that. It's time for you to make some changes. _So much_ of that pain is unnecessary, Gogo, I promise!"

Gogo felt tears in her eyes again. She was unprepared for the onslaught of emotions this conversation was bringing to her. She felt disoriented, as though the ground were trying to shift beneath her. "I want things to be different, Mistress, but I don't see how—"

"Gogo, listen to me," O-Ren implored. "You have capabilities you're not even aware of – _extraordinary_ capabilities, the kind that only a handful of people in a decade have. I know what I'm talking about! There is much, much more to being a warrior than just learning how to fight. Your combat skills are already of the highest order, but mentally and spiritually, you're in chaos! Gogo, you have the potential to become a truly great warrior, a _complete_ warrior! You lack only enlightenment and discipline – but you can acquire both of those things here with us, if you'll only let me help you!"

Gogo had lived for so long with constant torment in her soul that she had long since given up believing she could ever be free of it. She didn't want to torture herself with false hope. But…was it false? O-Ren was so wise and knowledgeable, and had already helped her in so many other countless ways…could it be possible…?

O-Ren could see a cautious hope creeping into Gogo's eyes. "I would be grateful for your help, Mistress," the young girl finally said, and then, with growing enthusiasm, "What should I do first? Should I speak with Master Mo? About the instructor position?"

O-Ren smiled, greatly relieved that this initial hurdle had been cleared, even though she knew there were many more ahead. "No," she said, "this is enough for today. You and I will meet with Master Mo first thing tomorrow.

"As for right now," O-Ren continued, rising to her feet, "I would be pleased if you would join me for a cup of tea. I have a special blend that I believe will do wonders for that hangover I'll bet you're still nursing. And then I want you to get some rest. Remember, we're scheduled to visit the House of Blue Leaves tonight and I want you fresh and alert!"

An hour later, as Gogo walked slowly back to her own apartment, she felt almost dazed. It was as though huge, painful portions of her past life had simply fallen away from her, and in their place were huge new vistas of possibilities she had never even suspected before. She felt a flood of conflicting emotions – fear, excitement, uncertainty, hope. It was the emotion of hope that was the most surprising and the most alien to her.

O-Ren was seated in her living room, lost in thought, reflecting on the developments of this day, when Sofie Fatale walked up behind her and rested her hands on her shoulders.

Sofie stood silently for a moment, gently massaging O-Ren's shoulders, and then asked softly, "Do you really think she's ready?"

O-Ren sighed deeply. "She's becoming more and more self-destructive every day. The drinking, the reckless violence…she'll destroy herself if something doesn't change. We owe it to her to give her this chance."

"Well, I still have my doubts," Sofie demurred.

O-Ren felt exasperation and anger rising within her. The last thing she wanted to hear right now was another one of Sofie's tiresome litanies on the shortcomings of Gogo Yubari. It irritated O-Ren that her best friend could seem to feel nothing but antipathy toward the young girl, while O-Ren herself had grown so inordinately fond of her.

"So how go the arrangements for tonight?" she asked, changing the subject.

Sofie immediately became chipper. "Everything's set! The House of Blue Leaves is holding a tea room and the roof garden for us. Oh, and I found out the 5,6,7,8's are playing tonight! I knew you'd like that!"

"So no problems then?"

"Well," replied Sofie, "no problems from the Blue Leaves, anyway. Johnny Mo is having kittens, of course. If he had his way, you and I both would be hiding in a closet somewhere until someone finally tracks down Beatrix Kiddo!"

O-Ren reached up to pat Sofie's hand on her shoulder. "Yes, Johnny is very protective of me," she teased.

Sofie bent down to plant a kiss on the top of O-Ren's head. "Aren't we all?" she whispered impishly, and then padded out of the room.

O-Ren returned to her own thoughts. She was looking forward to the evening ahead. For one thing, she felt her progress with Gogo today warranted a bit of celebration. But equally strong was her desire for a bit of distraction for her own sake.

While O-Ren could never admit it to anyone (not even to Sofie…although she suspected Sofie knew, anyway), the current situation with Beatrix Kiddo had unsettled her. She had been plagued with a feeling of apprehension ever since first learning that the woman she had ruthlessly helped devastate four years ago was apparently no longer lying harmless and comatose in a hospital bed.

O-Ren reminded herself that, given the damage done by Bill's bullet, it was quite possible that Beatrix remembered nothing of the events that had put her in that hospital bed. But she also knew that if Beatrix did remember, she would have ample reason to want revenge against O-Ren Ishii. And O-Ren knew that Beatrix Kiddo was not a woman to be underestimated.

Johnny Mo would not be the only one to feel a sense of relief when someone finally tracked down Beatrix Kiddo.

But tonight, O-Ren would set those worries aside for a while. Tonight, she would go to the House of Blue Leaves with her friends and her trusted aides, and she would watch their revelry and listen to their laughter, and gradually the weight of her concerns would melt from her shoulders and, for a few blessed hours, she would feel safe and free again.

And Gogo – dear, loyal Gogo – would sit quietly at O-Ren's side with that stern warrior's expression on her face, constantly vigilant, seemingly immune to the jocularity around her.

But…if Gogo's mind should wander tonight, O-Ren hoped it would wander to thoughts different from the ones she'd had for so very long now – that they might be thoughts of hope, thoughts of possibilities…maybe even thoughts of happiness.

And then, tomorrow morning, O-Ren Ishii and Johnny Mo would do their best to set young Gogo Yubari on a path that might, hopefully, save her from her self.


End file.
